


The Irrevocable Imprints of the Past

by CatherineTypes



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Vaguely JS critical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:52:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineTypes/pseuds/CatherineTypes
Summary: James McGraw struggles with moving forward while terrified of his past.





	The Irrevocable Imprints of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small piece that's been in the back of my mind for a while now. Nothing explicit at all, just a look into how I think certain characters would be left after the Finale.

The windows shutters rattle against the tropical storm. The cabin Thomas & James now share is humble, but it will hold, and hopefully there won’t be many repairs needed come morning.

It’s with that thought James hears it. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. That blunt yet clear sound of metal hitting stone in time with someone’s footsteps.

“Please,” thinks James, “Please, God, no.”  
James curls in on himself and squeezes his eyes tightly shut, trying to will the noise away. It’s childish logic, he knows - if I can’t see you, you can’t hurt me - but he hasn’t been Captain Flint in a good while now and he has no intention of taking up the mantle again.

It wasn’t that as Flint he thought himself invincible - he just hadn’t cared who faced him, very much aware he had flung himself into a kill-or-be-killed world and that with the slightest misstep there was every chance his plans would turn into a grand suicide mission. He had occasionally wondered if that wasn’t what they’d subconsciously been all along.

Now though, after everything, after he and Thomas had left the plantation far behind and found this little piece of heaven on earth for themselves, James finds himself silently begging any god who might hear him to let them live on uninterrupted by James’ past. Captain Flint is dead, and James’ only desire is to leave him in the sea and in the past where he belongs…

But he can’t. He can’t. Flint is still a part of him, no matter how much James tries to cast him off; Flint is a hideous growth on his mind, his heart, and it has always been only a matter of time before his deeds came chasing them. The noise is coming closer, the owner of that metal leg fast approaching, and James swears now he can hear the swipe of a sword leaving it’s sheath, more people’s footsteps and shouts over the thunder, the rattle and clink of chains. The smell of ocean spray is so damn strong. There’s blood everywhere, everywhere, and it’s all on his hands, he did this, he did this, so much blood…

James wakes with a sharp gasp, sitting bolt upright. He looks to the doors and windows, all bolted firmly against the elements, though he realises now the distant clunking he can hear is the outside gate, accidentally left open to be battered back and forth by the storm.

To his right side Thomas lies, eyes closed and chest heaving slowly in sleep. James is a little surprised he hasn’t woken him with his own jolt. It seems in recent years Thomas has become a very light sleeper - it breaks James’ heart anew every time he thinks on why - and more than once James has risen to find Thomas already awake from his own nightmares, staring down at James and gently stroking his freshly regrown hair as if worried - no, terrified - that James’ presence is an illusion that may dissipate into the horrors of reality at any moment.

A flash of lightning illuminates the room and James shuffles closer to Thomas to wrap an arm around his chest. His fingers tangle briefly in his sleeves, the nightshirt he’s wearing being an old one of Thomas’. Thomas mumbles, stirring just slightly, and returns the embrace, kissing James’ forehead. His beard brushes against James’ nose as he does so before he settles into sleep again, yet another reminder of the years they’ve both conquered to be together again, alongside the thick scars around Thomas’ wrists and the many thinner ones that cover his back.

James lets out a deep breath and sinks a little further into their bed. He’ll carry the guilt of not saving Thomas from the asylum, and everything that came after, until the day he dies, but for the present the weight of it is actually somewhat alleviated by Thomas himself. They are free, they are together, and Thomas still loves him, still holds him, still wears his ring, after hearing Flint’s story, uncensored from beginning to end, from James himself. These are the facts James repeats to himself when he’s at his worst until his breathing evens out and his fists can unclench. He keeps them close to his heart and lies back to rest, knowing that the past is behind him, snuggling in close to Thomas under the blanket, and tries to forget.

*

John Silver lies wide awake, staring at the beams above him as his hammock rocks, the ship fighting back against the turbulent waves, and tries not to think about how the thunder sounds like cannon fire. He tries not to miss Flint like another extremity he’s lost, this time by his own hand. He tries not to feel the guilt of his actions and how much he has lied, even by his standards, not only outright but also by omission, and he tries not to wonder if he’ll ever tell the whole story, the true story, to somebody some day.

He fails.

John Silver lies awake, and remembers.

**Author's Note:**

> One day I'll write something of a decent length but this is all I have for now. Please, let me know your thoughts.


End file.
